


Daydreams and Nightmares

by MidnightChardonnay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark!Luna, F/M, Masturbation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 06:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18493477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightChardonnay/pseuds/MidnightChardonnay
Summary: They say a dream is a wish your heart makes, but what happens when the wish isn't your own, and you have no control to stop it from coming true?





	Daydreams and Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DBQ2019Round2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2019Round2) collection. 



Flipping through an old tome, Luna Lovegood thought about  _ him.  _ His broad shoulders and chest, long arms lined with sinewy muscle, masculinity flowing through his body and emanating sex from every pore. As she drifted off in thought, undressing him in her daydreams, she let her left hand drop to her thigh, lightly running her fingers higher until they reached the soft wetness of her core. 

 

Chocolate eyes danced in her mind, flecked with gold that seemed to glow as she caressed herself beneath her flowing skirt. He would smile wickedly at her, she thought, as he watched her fingers dip between her folds, glistening with the wetness only he could inspire. 

 

Her blond head dropped back as she fingered herself over the edge of oblivion, whispering his name to the emptiness of the room in which she sat. As she slowly withdrew her fingers she gently circled her now sensitive nub to pull the last few pulses of orgasm from her body. 

 

She would have him. Someday. She could see it in her future; her seer’s vision showing the end result, but unfortunately not how to bring about the ending she wanted. 

 

Wiping her fingers on her skirt, she returned her attention to the old book in front of her. 

 

X

 

Blaise Zabini awoke with a start, breathing hard and sweating, sheets tangled around his legs. Shaking his head to attempt to rid himself of the sleepiness, he grabbed his journal to write down the bits he could remember.

 

He had been having these dreams off and on for months now. They plagued his nights and haunted his days. Flowing golden hair, ice blue eyes, long, pale legs spread before him. He never saw her face, just glimpses of a feature here or there. 

 

He had gotten drunk one night and told Theo about the dreams, his friend teasing him that having a beautiful, he assumed, woman spread before him like a feast would be a blissful dream, not a nightmare. Blaise has agreed, under normal circumstances, but something about the mood of his experiences felt off somehow. Like he shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be with her. 

 

Theo had suggested writing everything down from then on to see if he could piece things together. They’d placed an enchantment on the journal much like the one from Tom Riddle’s old diary, and everything that he wrote would immediately disappear until he needed the information again. As he would add things, it would put the bits in order, to try to make more sense of it. It would show him the completed picture, well almost completed, to see if he recognized who it was. 

 

After months of these nocturnal visions, he was only missing her face. There was something familiar about the rest of her, but she was just out of the reach of his memory.

This particular dream had been more vivid than the others. He could see her, sitting at a desk or table, her long hair cascading down her back in perfect curls. He watched as her hand moved lower and lower, until it disappeared under her skirt, where he didn’t have to imagine what she was doing. 

 

At first, watching through the dream had aroused him; made him hard. In the vision, he tried to move toward her, tell her to let him help. But he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move, as if he was chained to a chair, forced to watch through a window or mirror, but couldn’t get to the room to participate. 

 

She had turned to look at him then, a devious smile on her face. When her head dropped back and he heard his name fall from her lips as she brought herself to climax, he was sad and angry at the same time. Sad to not have been the one to help her to her release, angry that he didn’t know who she was, and just plain frustrated at the entire situation. 

 

Knowing that sleep would not return to him, and flushed with the memory of the dream, he rose from his bed to go take a cold shower before he had to go into London to meet with his former housemates. 

 

X

 

She had found it. An old fairy tale about dreams and moonstones, and a way to send your thoughts to another person, even without their knowledge or consent. It connected two people in dreams, reuniting those who had parted in anger, healing the soul from within. Luna always carried various crystals and stones with her, as her mother had taught her about their healing and emotional qualities, and Moonstone happened to be one of them. 

 

She read through the instructions, and cast the correct spells on the stones, and hoped for the best. 

 

Luna had always been considered a bit of an odd witch, which had cast her out of every social circle, and had her left of of invitations to debutante balls. Her father didn’t hold much weight in things of that nature, so she never had a coming out celebration of her own, all of which left her chances of being courted by a man slim to none. 

 

She was beautiful, smart, and funny, but over time, the insults cast her way began to take hold and dig deep. She had convinced herself that the only way she would get what she wanted would be to take it, and she had decided that what, or rather  _ who _ she wanted was Blaise Zabini. 

 

Devilishly handsome, the Slytherin was the least cruel of the snakes, and the only person in Hogwarts besides Harry Potter who had not made fun of her throughout the years. He would laugh when his friends would say things, but he would glance her way reproachfully, almost as if to apologize for their words, and his need to fit in with them. 

 

After being captured during the war and held prisoner in Malfoy Manor, something dark had buried itself inside of her, like the house and the proximity to Death Eaters and Voldemort had planted a bit of Dark Magic in her heart.

 

She became jaded, selfish, and wanton. She would flirt and tease, and leave the Muggle men wanting for more, because she just couldn’t bring herself to sully her body for anyone other than  _ him. _

 

All other men were filth compared to him, at least in her eyes. And she wanted nothing but perfection. 

 

X

 

When Blaise returned home that evening, a small package was waiting for him. Wrapped in plain brown paper, with a twine ribbon tied in a bow and holding a card with a haunting inscription. 

 

_ See you in our dreams. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. xo   _

 

He dropped the card as though he had been burned.  _ See you in our dreams _ ? What did that mean? Was someone doing this to him? 

 

He tried to use his wand to open the box, but it wouldn’t budge. Hesitantly, he picked it up, holding it as far from his body as he could in case the thing blew up in his face. As he lifted the lid, an innocent looking stone was gleaming at him in a pile of leaves and petals. Milky white with a silver shimmer which moved as he tilted it in the light to get a better view. 

 

He set the box down, a little ashamed at himself for jumping to conclusions, and picked the little stone up out of the debris that rested beneath it, and turned it over and over in his hands, looking for any signs of evil or dark magic. Finding none, he slipped the stone into his pocket to show Theo and Draco later, to see what they could make of it. 

 

Returning to the sofa, he sat down to read one of the Muggle fiction books that Hermione had lent him, always trying to get him to see beyond his world. His eyes drifted closed as he read of evil queens, white knights, and a girl with ebony hair. 

 

X

 

Falling headfirst into the dream, Blaise realised that things looked...different than usual. Where usually there was darkness or a sort of haze filling the background, this time there were blue skies, fluffy white clouds, and he could hear birds singing in the trees somewhere nearby. 

 

There was a floral print picnic blanket spread out on lush green grass, a book open before her. He could make out a few of the words, the same words that he had fallen asleep reading. A woman who would sing as she cleaned, birds who would chirp along with her. Forest animals dancing around her as the filth was cleaned up with magic. Not their kind of magic, no wands or spells. It just happened. 

 

As the girl whose eyes he looked through read further, he felt tears sting his vision, and realised she must have been crying about something in the story. Glancing back down, he read something about a prince, kissing a girl he thought to be dead, and her magically coming back to life. 

 

_ Ugh,  _ he thought.  _ Muggles read the strangest things. Why would a man kiss a dead girl? _ Muggles had the most ridiculous idea of what magic really was. 

 

As he watched, she stood and disappeared inside a lopsided house covered in vines. She went into what looked like a bathroom to clean and cool her face with water, then glanced up into the mirror to look at herself. 

 

X

 

Bolting upright and suddenly wide awake, Blaise realised that he knew who she was. The long, flowing hair, the blue eyes, the sort of ethereal aura that always seemed to glow around her. 

 

Luna Lovegood—most of Hogwarts had called her Looney, even to her face—seemed innocent enough in school. Odd, yes? But everyone was a little odd at times. Ravenclaw if he remembered correctly. 

 

He grabbed the journal and wrote only her name in it. As the journal absorbed the new information, piecing it all together and showing him the result, he was a bit shocked. Instead of blonde hair, the journal had changed it to black. The blue robes of Ravenclaw had shifted to green and silver, as though she had been sorted incorrectly. But the sorting hat never lied, did it? 

 

Setting the book down, he moved to his bedroom, falling into a restless sleep. 

 

X

 

Luna lay in bed awake, watching the moon out her bedroom window, and the clouds moving in front of it, obscuring her view. A storm appeared to be moving in, and she was thankful for the potential of a good, cleansing rain. 

 

Rolling over and tucking her blanket under chin, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. 

 

_ Opening her eyes in a strange room, she moved through the unfamiliar house like a ghost. Slowly, stepping lightly to avoid making noise and waking the sleeping residents, if there were any.  _

 

_ The room was tastefully decorated, mostly decorative things rather than personal, almost no photos were hung on the walls or placed on shelves. A few plants sat near windows, reaching their limbs toward the now sleeping sun, waiting for morning to drink in the needed light.  _

 

_ She moved into a long hallway, doors closed and locked as she approached one about halfway down its length. Something made her pause here. Listening to her intuition, she reached for the knob, turning it gently to find it unlocked.  _

 

_ Entering the room, she first noticed the large Slytherin house crest hanging on the wall above a large four poster bed, not unlike the ones they had had at Hogwarts, but much larger. Draped in black and green curtains, she almost didn’t see the man sleeping in the center of it, shrouded in darkness and shadows.  _

 

_ She drew closer until she could see his face, as gasped as she realized she was in  _ his  _ house. A strange pulling sensation flooded her stomach, right behind her navel, moving her still closer to the sleeping man.  _

 

_ As if sensing her there, his eyes opened, looking directly at her face.  _

 

“You. What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Blaise shouted at her. 

 

Startled by his brusque tone, she jumped back a bit. This was not what she had expected at all. He had always welcomed her into his space; why was he yelling at her? 

 

As her bottom lip began to tremble, she made a rash decision. 

 

“Lay back,” she demanded in her most Slytherin sounding voice. The high pitch and wispy quality of her voice was hard to make sound angry, but she did her best. 

 

He did as he was told. The shocked look upon his face telling her that he hadn’t intended to follow her direction. 

 

“Good boy. Now, unbutton your shirt, and remove your trousers.” He did this as well, the look on his face changing to stubbornness as he fought unsuccessfully to push through whatever was making him move against his will.

 

Once he had divested himself of his clothing, she stood at the foot of the bed to admire his lithe body. Not overly muscular, but not skinny either, he was built for speed, stamina, and sex appeal. 

She untied her robes and allowed them to drop to the floor, revealing her naked body to him, and climbed up on the bed, straddling his hips. 

 

“Oh, Blaise. I have been waiting so long for you. I'm so excited to show you what I can do to you.” The evil smirk he remembered from his dreams drifted across her face. A little scared, he tried to move, but was unable to. He wasn’t restrained or held down by anything, but when he tried to move his arms, it felt as though a steel shackle was locked around his wrists. 

 

Blaise realized at that moment that he was no longer sleeping, or moving through a dream. Somehow, she had appeared out of the dream and in his room, and was on top of him, controlling his every move with just a word. Helpless, he screamed out in silence, his voice robbed of him as well. 

 

She mistook his silent scream for pleasure at her ministrations, rather than the frustration and anger he intended, and kept on, gripping his hardened cock in her small hands, running her fingers up and down before dipping her head down to take him in her mouth. 

 

What should have been a pleasurable experience for Blaise— what man wouldn’t want a pretty witch’s blood red lips wrapped around them—was quickly turning into one of horror. 

 

With his body and voice completely incapacitated, she continued on. Sheathing his body within her own, she took her pleasure oblivious to his pain, she let herself fall limp on the bed beside him. 

 

“A dream is a wish your heart makes, indeed,” she whispered into the darkness of the room, Blaise still screaming soundlessly in fury next to her.

  
  



End file.
